


the mistletoe hung where you can see.

by redhoods



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Mountains sprawl as far as his eyes can see, snow capped and beautiful in the slowly diminishing light of day. His gaze doesn’t stay long on the far view, instead drifting back closer to Caleb, leaning against the rail, peering out, “Hey you,” he greets, nudging the door shut with his foot. It closes off the sound of the others inside, leaving them to the wind rustling through the trees.His breath fogs in front of him and the mugs feel warmer suddenly as he crosses the few steps needed to be shoulder to shoulder with Caleb, “Copper for your thoughts,” he offers quietly, when Caleb still hasn’t spoken, offering him one of the mugs of Beau’s mulled wine.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	the mistletoe hung where you can see.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [un-shit-yourself (fenix_down)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenix_down/gifts).



> this does not involve nott spiking eggnog, but i think i got the rest of it down. 
> 
> happy holigays. have something tooth rottingly soft and gay.
> 
> i know the holidays don't work like this in exandria, but i give exactly zero (0) fucks about it.

The cabin is impressive, there’s no denying that much, but Fjord can’t decide if it’s more impressive inside or outside, even as he shoulders his way out the door with two mugs in one hand and a blanket over the other arm.

Mountains sprawl as far as his eyes can see, snow capped and beautiful in the slowly diminishing light of day. His gaze doesn’t stay long on the far view, instead drifting back closer to Caleb, leaning against the rail, peering out, “Hey you,” he greets, nudging the door shut with his foot. It closes off the sound of the others inside, leaving them to the wind rustling through the trees.

His breath fogs in front of him and the mugs feel warmer suddenly as he crosses the few steps needed to be shoulder to shoulder with Caleb, “Copper for your thoughts,” he offers quietly, when Caleb still hasn’t spoken, offering him one of the mugs of Beau’s mulled wine.

Considers for a beat as he watches Caleb’s long fingers curl around the ceramic, “Might even be able to scrounge up a gold piece or two, considering that mind of yours,” he adds, nudging their shoulders and elbows together.

FInally, Caleb’s expression cracks into a small smile, his scarf dipping to hang loose around his neck, “Keep your coin.” It feels like there’s more he wants to say but Fjord watches him lift the mug for a drink instead and quashes the traitorous hope in his chest lifting his own mug.

This batch isn’t nearly as strong as what they’d been drinking last night and he’s glad of it as he rests his mug on the railing and steps back to shake the blanket out, “Nott said she’d use my insides as tree decorations if I let you freeze.”

He drapes the blanket around Caleb’s shoulders, before leaning against the railing again, wrapping his palms around the mug.

“I think she forgets I grew up in weather like this,” Caleb says and tilts against his side of his own volition.

Fjord hums, “Can’t blame her,” he murmurs, resisting the urge to turn his face into Caleb’s hair, “you still look one good breeze from tipping over.”

Caleb’s laugh is a little rusty, but warmth sings through Fjord better than the wine could ever manage. “You have seen me eat, Fjord,” he points out, a boney finger jabbing him right in the ribs that makes Fjord jerk a little on the spot, careful not to upset their drinks or the press of Caleb against his side.

The smell of cinnamon is drifting from him, from baking with Jester earlier, and Fjord wants to wrap around him, tuck his nose against his nape and not move until the new year perhaps.

He doesn’t do that though, only takes a slow pull from his mug, licks his lips, “What were you thinking about out here by yourself?” He asks, giving in to at least one urge, looping an arm around Caleb’s shoulders, squeezing gently, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Not at all,” Caleb falls quiet though, still and steady against Fjord’s side, even his hands are still around his mug. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly, “I was trying to remember the last holiday I had like this.”

The worlds curl cold in his chest and Fjord breathes quietly, “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

Caleb makes a quiet sound beneath his chin, finally moving, his mug placed on the railing before he turns, pressing himself against Fjord’s front. “No, don’t be,” he says, forehead knocking gently off Fjord’s chin before he fits himself under it, against his throat.

Fjord unconsciously tightens his grip on his own mug, before sitting it next to Caleb’s before it breaks in his palms, “Okay,” he says quietly, confused as he slides his arms around Caleb’s back over the blanket.

They stay like that for a while and Fjord doesn’t mind a bit, feeling selfish and greedy for enjoying it.

“I was not sad,” Caleb tells him at some point, when the sun is gone behind the mountains. “Have you ever felt so grateful for something and not known what to do with yourself?”

Fjord laughs softly, curling his left hand against Caleb’s back, “I have a few times now,” he answers honestly, watching the way his breath curls up loose strands of Caleb’s hair. The urge to brush it back down swells and he squashes it.

When Caleb starts to pull back, he’s got to also quash the urge to squish him in for one more hug, but Caleb doesn’t go far, enough for their gazes to meet, “I was a little overwhelmed,” he says, “I never thought all of this was something I’d get to have again and—”

“Here we are,” Fjord finishes for him, the end of the thoughts that’ve been knocking around his own head.

Caleb hums, “Here we are.”

Then before he realizes what’s happening, Caleb is pushing up into his space, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It’s chaste, a little chapped, and he pulls back before Fjord can fully process, his cheeks flaming bright red as he shuffles away, “Ah, sorry,” he says, scooping up his mug and heading for the door while Fjord stares after him, “mistletoe.”

Fjord blinks, looks up, realizes his mistake as soon as he turns back to the door, “There’s no mistletoe, Widogast!” He calls at Caleb’s back as the door is closing behind him.

Caleb turns though, grinning just a little, “I know,” he says, then lets the door shut the rest of the way.

“Oh,” Fjord says to the empty air, grabbing his mug and heading for the door. He’s got a tiefling to talk to about some mistletoe.

**Author's Note:**

> fjord stops in the doorway to the room jester and beau are sharing, watching as beau strings up mistletoe everywhere, "uh?"
> 
> she squawks, nearly falls off the bed, catching herself on one of the posts, "fjord!" she looks around, back to him, back to the mistletoe, back to him, "i can explain."
> 
> he scrunches his face, "i want one sprig and to never speak of this again."
> 
> she squints at him, "deal."


End file.
